Alice's Adventures in Yautjaland
by Zoop
Summary: Alice thought she, as the scientist, was the superior intelligence in the jungle until something from out of this world begged to differ. Captured as an exotic pet, she has to make the best of things until a way home can be found. Homage to the Lewis Carroll stories, but not a cross-over.
1. Pt1 Ch1: Down the Rabbit Hole

**PART I: A CAT WITHOUT A GRIN**

**Chapter 1: Down the Rabbit Hole ... In Which Alice Looks for the Rabbit and Finds Something Else**

Alice Little peered cautiously between the thick fronds into yet another empty clearing. Her brow furrowed. The conservation group insisted no other rival family grouping could be found competing for resources in this area, but so far, Alice had come up empty-handed in her search for the missing troop she'd been studying. There were definite signs that gorillas had been here, especially in this clearing, she noted, but they hadn't shown themselves for some time. She was becoming worried.

As she had done several times already, Alice slowly entered the clearing, her feet dragging more from resignation and disappointment than wariness, and scanned the trampled foliage. Yes, there were definitely signs that a large group had spent considerable time in this spot, likely grooming and lounging, having a wonderful time... But how long ago, and why did they leave?

She didn't have a god damned clue.

Her six months here had started out a little rocky and uncertain, because try as she might, she was still a rookie in the field. She found that putting the greats' words into practice was more easily said than done, and each approach she made resulted in a warning roar and a mass exodus. Patience won out, though, and once she established herself as a silent and non-confrontational observer, making no threatening movements and keeping her distance, the alpha grew to tolerate her presence. From there, things progressed beautifully until last week, when the troop's alpha male, Kirk, started getting edgy. Add to that the fact that Marta, the most vivacious female, was in estrus and Kirk was _ignoring_ her... Well, _that_ was completely unexpected.

_Show me the Kirk that ever turned his nose up at a female throwing herself at him_, Alice thought with a smirk.

Until today, she'd always managed to find them, though they seemed to be moving further away from where the scientists and their guides were encamped. While her colleagues were conducting their own studies, Alice alone managed the observations of Troop A10.

There must be a logical reason for it. Poachers were an ever-present threat in the nature preserve, of course, regardless of the patrols and warning signs at the borders. Had they somehow found her troop?

Hands on her hips, Alice turned her gaze to the surrounding jungle. It was hot and humid as usual, not a breath of wind at ground level. The underarms of her olive t-shirt were already dark with sweat, and she badly wanted to take off her long cargo pants and heavy hiking boots. Lying draped on her cot in front of a fan wearing nothing but a sports bra and the men's boxers she preferred was a massive temptation.

There was no sign of human traffic through the clearing, she decided. Moss-covered trees grew thick around the edges, and the undergrowth frequently required use of a machete to cut through. Her own was starting to dull from frequent use. If anyone had tried to get in from any other direction than the one she had, there'd be pretty clear evidence of it.

Alice frowned, feeling uneasy for some reason. She could hear the moisture drip that seemed a constant sound in the rain forest, but... that's all. No insects, no distant predatory animal cries, no birds...

_Maybe it would be a good idea to return to the encampment_, she thought nervously.

Adjusting her pack on her slim shoulders, Alice turned...

There was a moment of shock as the giant black... thing slowly emerged from the foliage, hissing and drooling gobs of saliva from its razor-sharp teeth. Her fear-fogged brain observed how like a cold-ripened banana the head appeared, then she was running for her life.

The thing gave chase, less hampered than her by the dense undergrowth. From the sounds it made, she guessed it was leaping from tree trunk to tree trunk most of the time, rather than running on the ground. She had the distinct impression that it was pacing itself on purpose, maybe even enjoying itself. Fully pumped with adrenalin and fear, she forced her eyes ahead. _Don't look back_, she told herself. _Keep running._

She didn't even try to guess what the hell it might be, or where the hell it came from.

Quite unexpectedly, there was a deafening shriek from the creature. Alice was so startled by the noise in what was otherwise a silent run that she stumbled and fell face-down in the ferns. Gathering herself, she quickly looked back, and saw something even more bizarre.

The banana-headed creature was being attacked by a very, _very_ tall... man... sort of... She honestly wasn't sure. It was humanoid, and looked male, but...

It... he... wielded a long spear-like weapon, and wore what appeared to be an almost reptilian bodysuit of a pale ochre coloring on the chest blending into dusty, dull green around his back. From her vantage point, she was able to make out plates of metal armor atop the suit, mostly about the upper chest, shoulders, wrists, and thighs. A metal helmet covered his face, and what looked like thick tubular appendages flowed from the back of his head like hair.

He moved with amazing speed, making it difficult for Alice to track him with her eyes and make out further details, but it was clear that his surprise attack had placed him at an advantage that he was exploiting with extreme prejudice. The creature he fought bled a yellowish green fluid from many wounds opened not just with the spear but a pair of foot-long scythes extended from his right wrist gauntlet. The male did not escape the battle unscathed, however; even as he delivered the killing blow, the creature's foreleg slashed and its talons tore across his chest. A mesh-like covering there seemed to interrupt the strike and prevent it from going too deep or too wide, but he was still wounded, and Alice gaped.

What she assumed must be blood streaming from the cut was a glowing, neon green. It suddenly occurred to her that maybe, just maybe, that wasn't a bodysuit.

She couldn't seem to draw in enough air to breathe, and sat cowering from the battle's victor. The humanoid squatted down and set about removing the creature's head. Blinking, Alice watched with horrified fascination as he severed the neck, taking care not to let the blood touch him. As it dripped, she could swear she heard something sizzling, like bacon on a hot skillet. Then he applied some sort of clip to the skull and hooked it on his belt next to...

Freezing, she realized what she was seeing, and her already labored breathing changed to hyperventilation. There were two bloody skulls with their spinal columns still attached, already hanging there. They were clearly human.

_Faraji_, she thought, horror building. _Maybe Dubaku too?_

He slowly rose and looked at her, tilting his head to the side. Some distant, primitive part of her brain advised her to stay still, make no sudden moves... She felt like a deer caught in the headlights. Then he approached her.

Had she been maracas, the cacophony of her trembling would have deafened, or at least seriously annoyed, everyone in a ten mile radius. As he got closer, she realized he made a strange churring, clicking sound, muffled somewhat by the mask. Alice suddenly knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the last thing in the world she wanted right now was for him to take that mask off.

Stopping some two yards from her, he kept tilting his head from one side to the other, as if examining her. Alice stayed rigidly still, not even looking _him_ over, afraid to make eye contact with that expressionless mask. She felt she'd seen quite enough of him, thank you very much. If she could possibly see _less_ of him now, that would be ideal. So close, she could make out the details of the banana-head much more clearly, and she recoiled. Worse, a drop of its blood fell to the forest floor, and now she realized that the sizzling she heard earlier was generated by the acidic blood burning everything it touched.

At that point, Alice's brain decided that this was entirely too much, and rather than take the extremist route and go for a full-blown aneurysm, it settled on a simple faint and turned off the lights on its way out.

* * *

Moc'tut wasn't sure what surprised him more; seeing a lone ooman out in the middle of nowhere, seeing a lone _female_ ooman out in the middle of nowhere, or seeing said ooman go limp and lifeless for no apparent reason.

He briefly wondered if it was some sort of passive defense.

Well, it didn't matter. He'd met the objective of his _chiva_ by slaying the _kainde amedha_ that slipped the net and escaped the pyramid hidden ten miles away. That it had slipped through the perimeter at the point _he_ was responsible for was not something he wished to dwell on. Nor did he want to acknowledge the fact that this ooman essentially baited the xenomorph, capturing its attention so his attack caught it unawares. Whether his skills were sufficient to best the creature on his own was a question he didn't want to think about either.

Shaking off the uncomfortable thoughts, he squatted down next to the immobilized ooman and looked it over. With a tap, he switched his helmet's infrared vision to another mode. The ooman must have adopted a passive defensive posture, he decided, for though it was down and unmoving, its heat did not diminish as would happen with death, nor had its inefficient single heart stopped beating. To make sure, he poked its midsection with his retracted _ki'cti-pa_. It didn't respond.

Chuffing, he stood and strode back to the corpse, extracting a container of blue liquid from his belt. If he did not dispose of the kill, oomans were sure to find it and become far more curious than was healthy for them. Moc'tut didn't want to be punished for neglecting this most important step, perhaps undoing all he had accomplished today.

Moc'tut growled, amused by the situation. He had two well-formed skulls, a smaller drone from the pyramid and this warrior, both unmarred by battle, that would certainly serve to commend him back on the clan ship. A fine start to anyone's collection of trophies, to be sure. And _this_... a live female ooman, unguarded by the males he and a hunt brother had run across an hour earlier... A rare thing indeed.

Paya must have finally given her blessing to the young hunter. Even if his trophies were no better than any of the other young bloods, he would still have bragging rights for _this_. Moc'tut hoisted his prize onto his shoulder and headed back to the pick-up point.

* * *

**Terms:**

Chiva = rite of passage, trial  
kainde amedha = 'hard meat,' Yautja word for xenomorph  
ki'cti-pa = combi-stick, spear  
ooman = slang term for 'human'  
Paya = warrior goddess

**Star Trek reference:** _Just in case_ I'm the only obscure Star Trek character dork out there, the name 'Marta' Alice uses for the 'vivacious' female gorilla is a reference to the green Orion lady from the original series episode, 'Whom Gods Destroy.'

**A/N:** While this story is by no means a 'crossover' with _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ and _Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There_, the astute (or downright lit-geeky) reader may notice that the chapter titles are taken straight from the Lewis Carroll books. Also, the Yautja names, and to some extent their roles in the story, are references to creatures and people that Carroll's Alice meets on _her_ adventures. Given this, it should also be obvious that my 'Alice Little' is a direct reference to the inspiration for Carroll's works, Alice Liddell.


	2. Pt1 Ch2: The Pool of Tears

**PART I: A CAT WITHOUT A GRIN**

**Chapter 2: The Pool of Tears ... In Which Alice Discovers She is the Cat**

As Moc'tut approached the drop ship, his trophies rattling against his body and some kind of... thing over his shoulder, Mat'ha blinked behind his visor with surprise. The over-eager young blood was an endless source of amusement, but this was truly strange. Tilting his head to the side, Mat'ha rumbled at the young hunter as he ascended the gangway.

"What is _that_?" Mat'ha trilled, pointing at the... thing. According to his visor, it had a heat signature and was clearly some sort of animal, but all he could see was its hind quarters at the moment.

"Ooman," Moc'tut proclaimed, stopping to hike the body into a better position on his shoulder. "_Female_," he added pointedly, his voice clearly prideful.

Mat'ha waited for further explanation, but when none appeared to be forthcoming, he growled, "What in Paya's name did you bring it back _here_ for?"

"Make a good pet out of it," Moc'tut replied.

"A... pet," the honored warrior repeated, just to be certain he'd heard right. Memory stirred, but he kept his voice even.

Faltering, Moc'tut trilled questioningly, "Are they not rare and difficult to acquire?"

"Yes...," Mat'ha allowed. "They are also dirty creatures. Why would you want one?"

Puffing his chest, the newly blooded hunter replied, "I'll clean it up. It is certain to impress the females, don't you think?"

Grateful the visor hid his relief and amusement, Mat'ha nodded and said, "Right. That is... a good plan."

Satisfied, Moc'tut all but strutted into the loading bay of the drop ship. Mat'ha chuffed quietly with mirth as he followed, engaging the mechanism that closed the gangway behind him. Maybe he'd done similar asinine things as a pup, but none advised _him_ otherwise. He saw no reason to educate Moc'tut on the matter. There were many things the elder would never speak of with anyone, no matter the temptation. This was one of those things. Let the fool learn on his own, as Mat'ha had.

* * *

The hunting party's medic was an elder who had, up to this moment, believed he'd seen it all. While oomans were not exactly a common sight, they were not unheard of, either. Seeing one in Moc'tut's possession was certainly a novelty. More shocking yet was that it was _female_.

Did this posturing pup draw a line _anywhere_? Cheh'shi now knew the answer was _no_.

At least the idiot put it down relatively carefully. It was a limp thing, completely incapacitated, but still alive. Cheh'shi decided the obvious question needed to be asked.

Pointing at the ooman, he glared at Moc'tut and growled, "What is _this_ for?"

"I'm taking it with me," Moc'tut clicked impatiently. "Check it for parasites... diseases... whatever it is you look for. I will keep it as a pet."

"You will?" the medic asked skeptically.

Moc'tut shrugged. "Mat'ha has seen it. He did not object."

Cheh'shi suspected the elder was more interested in watching the entertainment that was sure to come than he was in enforcing any 'no pets allowed' rules that might be in place.

Sighing with resignation, he affixed his most powerful and versatile visor over his face and began flicking through the spectrums, looking the ooman's body over from top to bottom in search of... well, anything, really. Moc'tut occupied himself by applying a mild sealant to the wound on his chest. Enough to close it and prevent infection, but not so much he erased the scar. It was his first true battle scar, and he was damned proud of it.

Removing the bag attached to the ooman's back, Cheh'shi handed it over to Moc'tut and resumed his examination. The young hunter shifted the bag in his hands a little, but didn't otherwise give it much more than a cursory look. His visor had already determined there were no weapons inside. He'd investigate the contents at his leisure later on. The medic detached a long bladed weapon from the ooman's hip and proffered it as well. Looking at this more closely, Moc'tut quickly decided that the blade was not sharp enough to present any real threat and set it aside with the bag.

"Well," Cheh'shi finally said, removing his visor, "it is as... clean as one can expect. No internal parasites; no _kainde amedha _implantation. A few indigenous external parasites; I removed those. No signs of infection. It would appear to be in relatively good health. Apart from being unconscious. Did you strike it?"

"No," Moc'tut hissed defensively. "I am an honorable hunter. I do not attack weak and sick animals."

"I only ask out of curiosity," Cheh'shi soothed. "I have not seen one remain in this state for quite so long."

"It is safe, then?"

"I believe so," Cheh'shi nodded. Eying the young hunter for a moment, he cautiously advised, "I would suggest you keep it from roaming, however."

Gathering up his pet and its things, Moc'tut hissed, "It will not _roam_, medic." Then he strode out of the room.

Shaking his head, Cheh'shi began securing his equipment for the pending launch that would take them back to the hunter ship orbiting around this gods-forsaken planet. He wondered how long it would be before Moc'tut regretted this rash move. Likely not long at all. It was concerning, to be sure, but not his place to interfere.

* * *

The feeling of being pressed hard into a flat surface for a few moments jogged Alice out of her stupor enough to begin taking in her surroundings. She vaguely recalled a few details after the... things... She pushed that away.

_Start over_, she thought, and cleared her head as best she could. It was almost uncomfortably warm and humid, she noted. Right. Must still be in the jungle. And at least alive enough to feel heat and moisture. Good.

Even with her eyes closed, she could detect a light source that seemed all around, but wasn't very bright. It was sort of... red, actually. Not exactly what one would expect of a jungle. Frowning, she dared to crack an eyelid open a smidgen. A dim reddish glow somehow managed to bleed through the thick mist surrounding her. Both eyes open now, she turned her head a bit to look around.

Near as she could tell, she was lying on the hard floor of a foggy... place. With red lighting. The air seemed a bit thick, like it would at a high altitude, but that could have been the dense fog. Listening, she realized everything was quiet, and slowly pushed herself to sit up.

The strange place was about the size of a half-way decent hotel room. Mist floated lazily up to about knee height, then the air seemed much more clear all the way to the ceiling. The walls seemed to emanate the strange reddish glow, and she noted there were markings all over them, reminiscent of pictographs. Putting her hands on the floor to help her stand, she halted and looked down. There was a fur skin underneath her of a color she couldn't begin to guess.

Memories began to return, and she seemed to recall briefly seeing... another creature like the one in the mask. Evidently her brain was occasionally checking the layout to ascertain whether consciousness was a good idea. More than one of the reptile-skinned humanoids was apparently sufficient argument in favor of playing opossum. Eyes flaring for a moment, she distinctly recalled being on a table with another of the masked critters leaning over her, bright lights in the ceiling... rather like a hospital...

_Oh Jesus, is that when I got the anal probe?_ she wondered in a panic. _Thank god I wasn't awake for that._

As her eyes adjusted to the surfeit of red, she realized it was _just_ like a hotel room; there was a mother of a huge bed against one wall. Alice slowly dragged herself up to stand, leaning against the wall across from this monster bed. It was about four feet off the floor and at least ten feet long. A few very large animal pelts were thrown across it, but didn't look like they helped much. As a matter of fact, it wasn't a particularly comfortable-looking bed to begin with. More like a deep bench.

But... it was _huge_. She suddenly remembered, quite unwillingly at the moment, the very tall, burly male... whatever coming toward her...

"Son of a bitch," she muttered.

Thankfully, the room wasn't big enough to hide him, and there was no sign that anyone else was present. Hugging herself to keep from flying apart, she slowly shuffled in a circuit around the room, taking in her surroundings. Apart from the huge bed, there was what looked strangely like a toilet in a corner. Just like a prison cell. Approaching the odd addition, she was amazed how familiar it was in design. She wondered if this... male something or other put his pants on one leg at a time, too.

Her careful examination and experimental flush only served to inform her of the sudden desperate need to use the oversized commode as quickly as possible. Hoping to god nobody barged in on her, she christened the device with all haste.

Feeling a hundred times more confident with _that_ out of the way, Alice continued her tour, finding a table with her backpack on it. Except her bag wasn't just sitting there, it was unzipped and empty next to the scattered contents.

The careless disregard for her personal things brought mixed emotions. On the one hand, she was rather angry that someone dicked with her stuff. On the other, she felt violated. Perhaps not in a sexual way, but in the sense that the things she owned, the only connection she had with home, held no value. Her privacy didn't appear to have much meaning, either.

Her throat constricted and she gripped herself tighter. _Face it_, she forced herself to think, _that guy was an alien, so was the whatsis he killed. If you're extremely lucky, the worst thing that'll happen is that anal probe aliens are so fond of._

Not very encouraging. Climbing onto a chair next to the table, Alice gently touched each item, not disturbing where it lay. It might be an indigenous tribe's religious artifacts she was examining, rather than her own property. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she paid each one careful attention. There was her digital voice recorder, a notebook and pens. A couple pairs of boxer shorts and a sports bra, because you never know what might happen in the jungle, and momma always said, wear clean underwear. Flashlight and extra batteries. Half a dozen energy bars. A hairbrush. Nothing ransacked or torn to pieces, just spread out. Poked at. Invaded.

Her movements were slow as she undid the coil of her hair at the back of her head, letting the long, straight brown length flow down her back. Then she picked up the hairbrush and put it to use with a shaking hand.

She didn't know how long she sat there, staring at the wall and brushing her hair in a daze. After awhile, she realized there was a humming sort of vibration coming up through the floor, with a faint humming sound to go along with it. Sort of like an engine on a really high end car. Nothing annoying, but something easily ignored if you were on the verge of panic and weren't looking for it.

_Was_ this her prison cell, then? At least she was still dressed. Taking a quick feel, she noted with relief that her pants were still intact in the back. Just because she had no ass pain didn't mean an anal probe hadn't happened.

Well, if this was her cage, someone better give her some water. She was _not_ going to drink out of the toilet.

On the other hand, if that big guy was her jailor... She shuddered. Now that she was beginning to calm down, more details of the encounter came to mind, one of which was the massive claws he had on his fingers. While he wore a bit of protective armor, it seemed most of his body was bare, his skin reptilian. Hadn't she seen sea turtles with similar textures and coloration on their flippers?

_Great_, she grumped with an ironic grimace, _I've been kidnapped by a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle._

If that was the case, maybe his face wouldn't be so terrifying.

Even as she thought that, a panel in one wall that had gone unnoticed before suddenly swished open and her captor returned. Tensing all over, she scooted quickly to the corner she'd woken up in and dropped to the floor, hugging her knees and staring wide eyed.

He was at least seven feet tall, thickly muscled, and if she was any judge, pissed beyond reason.

The armor and mask he wore were slightly different from what she'd seen before, but there was no mistaking his skin's coloration. It was the same one. A steady stream of clicking, growling and snarling came from behind the mask, slightly muffled but no less threatening. She tried to make herself even smaller.

With violently jerking motions, he nearly tore a damaged piece of armor from his shoulder and sent it flying across the room. The shoulder guard bounced off the wall and dropped straight into the toilet.

Evidently, this was not the intended outcome, for the male threw his head back and roared so loudly, Alice cringed and held her ears. Then he strode to the toilet and kicked it as hard as he could.

This only served to rile him up to even greater heights of pissed, because now he had pain on top of whatever was infuriating him so completely. More roaring erupted, then he bent down, fished out the piece of armor, and flung it into another corner of the room.

Right at Alice. She yelped as she covered her head with both arms.

The room suddenly went quiet except for that strange churring noise she'd heard him make in the jungle. _Dear god, he sounds like Perry the Platypus_, she thought wildly. Slowly, she parted her arms and looked up.

His shoulders were rising and falling rapidly with his heavy breathing, but at least he wasn't throwing anything else around. He was, however, looking straight at her.

Trembling under the blank stare of that damned mask, she looked at his hands. He was slowly balling them into fists and releasing the tension, over and over. The claws were indeed long and horrifyingly dangerous-looking. Then he huffed and reached up to remove his mask.

She couldn't look away as he unhooked a couple of tubes and gripped the mask with both hands. _I'm about to find out he's no effing turtle_, she realized.

The mask revealed a face... if she had any doubts she was captured by aliens, they were thoroughly answered now. A slight gasp leaped out of her mouth and she cringed even closer to the wall. The creature had a very large forehead with a bony sort of crown from which those odd tubular appendages extended. In fact, the dome of his head most resembled a horseshoe crab's shell, oddly enough. His brow seemed rigid, devoid of the musculature that enabled a primate to express its emotions. Deeply set in his face, his eyes seemed to glow an orangish yellow. The mouth, though... It was like a cross between a preying mantis's mandibles and a crab's legs. Two tusked appendages emerged from what she took to be his cheekbones. Between them, an upper 'lip' stretched over a small mouth containing far sharper teeth than she was comfortable seeing on display. Hugging the chin was a larger pair of mandibles, folded upward like a pair of tiny arms, also bearing tusks.

Tilting his head first one way than another, he stared back unblinking. She wondered if he even had eyelids. Jerking his chin forward, he made a series of weird clicking sounds that involved a mandibular tapdance in front of his vicious teeth. If he was actually speaking, she had no way to know. All she could contribute to the conversation was a barely audible squeak. Then he suddenly bent at the knees, thrust his body forward, spread his clawed hands in a clear _bring it on!_ pose and roared at her, mandibles spreading open, mouth widening to show a very strange-looking throat...

Her eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped sideways on the floor.

Blinking, Moc'tut straightened and tilted his head in confusion. If his pet was once more taking this posture, he must have misread the challenge such prolonged eye contact would have otherwise indicated. But then, he was pretty touchy at the moment. He'd just spent the last hour getting repeatedly pummelled in the _kehrite_ by Qu'art. Bad enough he couldn't seem to get the upper hand with the larger male, but add to it the constant insults of Moc'tut's performance in the _chiva_... even implying it was the _ooman_ who downed the _kainde amedha_, not him!

Considering the limp pile it lay in at the moment, such an idea was worse than laughable.

Something odd caught his eye, and he approached the ooman warily. The wad of fur on its head had, for some reason, grown the length of his forearm in a short time. Curious, he squatted next to it and touched the dark mane. It wasn't like any pelt he'd touched before, though his experience was limited. Now that he'd completed his _chiva_, he would be able to roam at will, hunting and collecting trophies, accumulating exotic goods for the benefit of his clan, seeing wonders he'd only heard stories of... But for now, he had to make it back to the clan ship and sit through the final blooding ritual ushering him into adulthood. Something he would not get to enjoy if that _pauk-de_ Qu'art kept catching him off guard, shattering his equipment, taking unfair advantage, and essentially being a total _s'yuit-de_.

Feeling himself getting riled up again, Moc'tut gathered his pet in his arms and deposited it on the bed. Grumbling to himself, he removed the remainder of his armor and just tossed the training plates on the floor, disgusted and not at all interested in treating them with any kind of respect at the moment. Then he climbed onto the bed and leaned back against the wall. Making himself as comfortable as he could, he dragged the ooman closer, put its head on his leg, and stroked its mane. All the while, he continued to expore his opinion of Qu'art with a steady stream of expletives.

The stroking gradually served to coax Alice from her stupor. It was actually quite soothing, feeling a firm hand running from the top of her head to the ends of her hair midway down her back. Until she realized there was only one person she knew of who might be doing it. Her eyes blinked open and she saw... crotch.

Thankfully, crotch modestly covered by leather and a sort of metallic codpiece, but unmistakably male crotch regardless. She went rigid and darted her eyes around without twitching or otherwise moving the rest of her body. Her head was resting on his thigh, which was damn near as hard as a rock. She could actually feel the texture of his pebbly skin under her cheek. He'd pulled her body up against his leg within easy reach. While one hand fiddled with her hair, the other waved about wildly in the manner of someone having a really animated discussion.

Except... there was no one else there. His mouth and mouth... parts were working like crazy, too. She could almost make out words amongst the growling, hissing, chattering, clicking, and snarling, but the only one that kept getting repeated was something that sounded a lot like 'pock.'

The whole situation was disturbing, and she continued to stare up at him in disbelief. If she didn't know better, she would think he was telling her how rotten his day had been.

_**You've** had a rotten day?_ she thought. _Honey, don't get me **started**._

But even worse than that realization was the familiarity of the scenario. She'd sat in his position so many times, petting her cat, venting her spleen about some indignity or slight. She'd believed in the way of most humans that, as long as there was _something_ alive in the room, you weren't insane when you talked to yourself. Like when she'd done it back home, this alien wasn't looking at her or otherwise indicating in any way that he was seeking or expecting a response.

Gradually, in an almost predictable way, the aggression in his posture and vocalizations began to diminish as he stroked her hair – _petted_ her, she realized with indignation – and he calmed before her eyes.

Holy crap. She was his _pet_. And he was so god damned _big_, so freaking _alien_, so completely not _human_... Alice felt tears stinging her eyes, but she was afraid to move or make any sound at all.

It hit her hard, then. She wasn't going home. She would _never_ go home. This... creature took a liking to her like an exotic animal fancier would a chimpanzee or a monkey... hell, she was Curious George and he was the Man with the Yellow Hat. With just as little regard for her freedom as in that silly children's tale. Anger at him flared for a moment, then died as she grasped the cruel irony.

Humans did exactly the same thing. They labeled it 'conservation' or 'species preservation'... any number of phrases meant to mask their own guilt in the matter, but the end result was the same. Animals taken from their natural habitats and put in cages, be they zoos or labs. It no longer looked to her like such a huge favor they'd done those creatures, now that the shoe was on the other foot. Whatever motivated this alien to capture her, whatever plans he had for her, be they benign or nefarious – and she still wasn't ruling out anal probing at this point – she had a whole new perspective to dwell on.

Not that it mattered. She'd never make it back home to spread the word or change the perceptions of her peers. Blinking, she felt hot tears fall down her cheek onto his thigh.

* * *

**Terms:**

kehrite = training hall  
pauk-de = fucker  
s'yuit-de = coward, pathetic, demeaning description of someone or something


	3. Pt1 Ch3: The Caucus Race and a Long Tale

**PART I: A CAT WITHOUT A GRIN**

**Chapter 3: The Caucus Race and a Long Tale ... In Which a Bath is Given and a Race is Lost**

If there was one thing Moc'tut could _not_ brag of, it was his knowledge of ooman behavior. He no more understood the water leaking from its eyes than he did the fine points of quantum physics. Not his area of expertise, and nothing he'd ever shown interest in or aptitude for in the past. All it did was serve to remind him that his ooman smelled like fear, sweat, and its planet, none of which were pleasant, and perhaps now that it was awake and he was calmer, that problem could be mended.

Huffing, he pushed his pet from his leg and slid off the bed. Without warning, he grabbed its foreleg and hauled it off as well, setting it on its hind legs and steering it toward the door. He paused only a moment for the panel to slide open, then dragged it into the hall.

Alice stumbled along at the end of the creature's muscular arm, trembling and wondering what the hell was going on _now_. She was in a curving hallway that looked oddly like the room they'd just vacated; all red-glowing walls with strange markings, knee-deep mist, and jungle-like humidity. He was pulling her along too quickly for her to get a good look at the walls, but at least she was able to note that there didn't appear to be a pattern to it. Perhaps the marks were words.

She didn't get to dwell on that thought long as another panel opened and he pushed her inside a completely different kind of room.

The first thought that came to mind was 'locker room,' except it was pretty light on lockers and heavy on communal shower. Across from the door, the wall was diveted with shallow floor-to-ceiling alcoves containing multiple shower heads at various heights and angles. Though the thick steam partially obscured them, Alice made out two more of the reptilian creatures occupying a couple of the alcoves, chittering away as they scrubbed themselves down. As she and her captor entered, they glanced over their shoulders and did a double-take. One cocked his head while the other shook his and went back to what he was doing.

She blinked in disbelief. For some reason, seeing two aliens buck-ass naked, when they barely wore clothes to begin with, seemed a hell of a lot more indecent than if she'd walked in on a load of basketball players after a game.

_Ah_, she thought, beginning to shake from the rising panic, _gang rape in the shower, **then** the anal probing. **That's** how it's gonna go down._

She thanked her lucky stars their backs were turned. While she possessed a morbid curiosity for how this species was... built, assuming if they wore such heavy metallic codpieces they must have _something_ to protect, she didn't particularly want her questions answered _right now_.

Moc'tut shoved his pet forward in the direction of the next unoccupied alcove, ignoring its tension and resistance. By the smell, Mat'ha was right about oomans. Probably wouldn't take kindly to a thorough cleaning like he had in mind. Bracing himself for further resistance, he exchanged a look with the elder in the farther alcove, sensing the eager anticipation in Mat'ha's eyes.

_Pauk-de_, he thought with aggravation. Turning his attention to the ooman, he was momentarily baffled by the covering over its flesh. He didn't think getting it wet would be good, plus a lot of the ooman's stink was embedded in its covering. That had to go first, then.

Plucking and yanking with his claws, turning the ooman around in circles, he finally gave up looking for an easy opening or seam, and ripped the top covering off its torso. A high-pitched squeal emitted from its throat, and its forelegs came up to cover its milk glands. Moc'tut huffed with impatience and rent the lower covering as well. Then the fight started.

Crouching to tear the fabric off its legs, he wasn't prepared for the ooman's foot connecting with his face, right between the tusks. Caught off-balance on the slick floor, he landed heavily on his backside to the amusement of the other two males. Infuriated, he leaped to his feet and roared at the ooman, only to find it dodging around him and heading for the door!

Moc'tut lunged and caught it around the middle, then hauled it off its feet. All four limbs flailed in the air as it tried to free itself, and ear-splitting shrieks echoed off the walls. One of its hind legs struck him hard in the groin, and he was grateful he hadn't removed the metal plating yet, for the blow was hard enough to make him grunt.

Growling with frustration, and reminding himself this was a weaker creature and it would be dishonorable to _rip its pauk-de head off_, he thrust it into the alcove.

As soon as the ooman's presence was detected within the small area, the shower heads came on.

In the brief moment of stunned silence, the young blood next to them glared at Moc'tut and snarled, "Couldn't you have waited until we were finished before dragging your squalling pet in here?"

"_Ell-os'de pauk_, Duc'sa!" Moc'tut roared.

Alice felt like she was being blown across the room. The water was hot and came out of the wall with sand-blasting force, hitting her directly in the face and chest. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to defend herself from this new weapon by holding her hands up to deflect the pummeling stream. The alien had one hand at the back of her neck, holding her in position; she had no idea what he was doing behind her, but she hoped it didn't involve an anal probe. She just did _not_ think she could handle that right now.

Whatever he was doing involved jerking around because she could feel movement coming through his hand. After a moment, she was able to turn her head slightly and look, only to stare wide-eyed at him as he yanked his loincloth free and flung it back toward the door, out of the water.

Screaming bloody murder, she practically climbed up the wall.

Beyond livid now, Moc'tut grabbed a fistful of the ooman's mane and yanked it back, forcing it to stand still.

"Give me some of that," he barked at the other young blood, holding out his free hand expectantly. Chuffing with amusement, Duc'sa poured some cleanser into Moc'tut's hand and watched avidly as the idiot now tried to wash the ooman's mane.

"Qu'art will be sad he missed this," he noted with a snicker, though he edged a little closer to Mat'ha to avoid any retaliatory swipe of the smaller yautja's claws.

Strangely, cleaning the ooman's mane didn't prompt nearly the same reaction as Moc'tut's attentions to the rest of it did. At first nearly docile while he worked the cleanser into the fur, it went completely insane again when he attempted to wash its torso. The resulting altercation in the alcove became a confused flurry of ooman and yautja limbs as Moc'tut tried to scrub dirty ooman flesh and the ooman tried to keep the yautja from doing it.

Mat'ha had to turn away lest his grip slip and an uncontrollable stream of laughter erupt from him, sending him to the floor holding his gut. He could feel it hiding just below the surface. If Moc'tut had any idea what colorful ways in which this ooman female was describing him, he would explode. The elder was actually quite impressed by her range as she left no possible doubt that the young yautja male was bereft of legitimate parentage, prone to perversion, and lacking in proper hygiene.

Age and experience warned him he should look away and spare the pup any further embarrassment by laughing; evidently Duc'sa wasn't so blessed with tact as he succumbed and went down in a chittering and snorting heap.

Eventually, patience completely run out, Moc'tut gave up before he did something truly violent. Already, the ooman's skin was scored and punctured all over from his thwarted attempts to get a hold of it. Dragging it to the corner, he pushed its back against the wall and thrust a clawed finger in its face, telling it to stay put. It was limp and exhausted-looking; he hoped that would be enough to keep it in place while he washed himself.

Gasping from the exertion and the effort not to kill the little beast, Moc'tut rolled his shoulders and stretched, then settled into his grooming.

"Moc'tut," Mat'ha said evenly, a note of mirth in his voice.

"What?"

"You did not secure the door."

Whirling around, Moc'tut caught a fleeting glimpse of his pet just as the panel slid shut.

"_C'jit!_" he bellowed at the top of his voice, then hurtled out of the room in high dudgeon.

_Now_ Mat'ha allowed himself to drop to his knees and howl with laughter.

* * *

Intelligent thought didn't enter into the equation as Alice sprinted down the curving hallway, cleaving a brief trench through the mist. She could hear the monster's pounding feet and furious roar in pursuit; fear of his anger and the memory of those claws all over her body spurred her onward.

The hall split ahead, and she randomly took the left branch. If there were more doors down this corridor, she didn't recognize them as such. It just seemed like an endless track and reminded her disturbingly of her hamster's Habitrail when she was a kid.

But desperation and terror could only mask her body's protests for so long. She suddenly became aware of the burning in her chest, of her legs slowing as they turned to lead. Before she could collapse in a heap, however, the alien caught up to her.

The first thing he grabbed was her hair streaming out behind her, but he had trouble getting a grip at first. Half a second later, though, his longer strides closed the gap and he got hold of a fistful again. The chase ended swiftly then as her body simply quit moving, sending her so suddenly to the floor that he was unable to compensate in time and literally fell over her.

Dazed for a moment, Moc'tut shook himself and scrambled to his feet, hoping nobody saw him go down flat on his face in the corridor. His pet was lying face down on the floor, gasping and whimpering like a wounded animal. Too angry and tired to deal with his pet any longer, the young blood grabbed its forelegs and threw it over his shoulder. Thankfully, it was too done in itself to raise any protest. Then he stomped back to his quarters.

Once inside, he made damn sure the door was locked this time, dropped his pet onto its pallet, and climbed onto the bed. He didn't even bother covering himself or putting on a clean loincloth. The rigors of his _chiva _followed by a ten-mile chase through the jungle, hauling his pet back to the ship, struggling not to kill it with his bare hands... all finally took their toll. In minutes, he fell asleep.

Alice lay on what she had to assume was her pet bed, the unidentifiable animal fur, for several minutes to allow her heart to settle back to a normal rate. When she realized the alien had stopped moving and the seemingly endless stream of rude-sounding noises had stopped coming out of his mouth, it came as a shock to see him doing something as benign as _sleeping_. Body aching, she forced herself to stand and really look at him.

She didn't want to look at his... manhood just yet, and focused on his feet. She really hadn't seen them yet, since this whole place – she didn't want to acknowledge that it was likely a _ship_ – was filled with that obscuring mist, but they looked remarkably like primate feet. Not human feet, but something like a chimpanzee's, with a thumb-like appendage back near the arch of the foot. While his hands were humanoid with the right number of fingers and an opposable thumb, they were dangerously clawed and seemed more reptilian because of his skin texture.

Just from the look of his feet, though, she had to assume that his kind were accomplished climbers.

Curiosity getting the better of her, she let her eyes slowly approach his groin, sort of allowing it to come into gradual focus starting with the corner of her eye and eventually turning her head to fully face the 'zone.'

_I guess I found the turtle_, she thought, blushing hotly as she quickly looked away again. His penis appeared to be tucked up into his body cavity, with just the head visible and surrounded by a collar of folded skin. Judging by the size of the rest of him, she had to assume she wasn't seeing his family jewels in all their glory. Piss that thing off, and it would probably be as long as her forearm and just as thick. She didn't get close enough to see what ingenious method his species had for protecting their testicles.

Turning away from him, she went to the table laden with her things and gratefully pulled on a clean pair of boxers and a sports bra. Now that things were quiet and she could think, she looked at the many scrapes and small cuts all over her arms, then glanced back at the massive hand resting on his stomach.

He could have ripped her apart, she realized. Upon reflection, she knew she'd made him angry enough. But come on! She had no idea what he'd wanted from her. She couldn't understand his weird language or read his perverted little mind. For all she knew, he was simply prepping her for a good old fashioned ass-reaming, complete with attentive audience, not a flipping shower.

Now that she thought about it, though, she could swear those other two creatures were laughing at them.

* * *

**Terms:**

Ell-os'de pauk = Fuck you  
C'jit = Shit


	4. Pt1 Ch4: The Rabbit Sends a Little Bill

**PART I: A CAT WITHOUT A GRIN**

**Chapter 4: The Rabbit Sends a Little Bill ... In Which Alice Fetches and Carries**

The sound of sizzling metal woke Alice from a nap she hadn't intended to take. Once more, she was surrounded by the mist, obscuring her sight, and she realized she was on that strip of fur on the floor. She had no recollection of leaving the chair.

_Did he... put me to bed?_ she wondered. Sitting up, she looked around, her head barely clearing the fog, and found the alien seated at the table, hunched over... something. Whatever he was doing seemed to be the source of the strange fizzing and sizzling, and apparently flashed yellow sparks into his mask-covered face. Straightening a bit, she tried to get a look at it without drawing his attention.

Frowning, she realized he held a tool that looked amazingly like the Doctor's sonic screwdriver over that plate of armor he'd flung at her before. He'd shoved her things to the side and had several pieces of armor laying about, but seemed completely engrossed in this one piece. After a moment, it dawned on her that he must be trying to fix it.

Taking a deep, calming breath, she let it out slowly. Her captor was calmer than she'd seen him so far, and she wasn't particularly interested in calling attention to herself and maybe setting him off again. Unfortunately, she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold out. Though the passage of time was difficult to gauge in this one windowless room, she could tell by the pain in her stomach that she hadn't eaten for a day at least, maybe almost two. At least she'd gotten blasted in the face with that water cannon shower of his, or she'd be dying of thirst as well.

Would he freak out if she got up and fetched an energy bar from her stash? Probably shouldn't push it. He was grumbling quietly to himself; she picked up that omnipresent 'pock' used almost like punctuation in his speech, accompanied by frequent mentions of something that sounded like 'quart,' but with a glottal stop in the middle. Alice couldn't begin to guess what he was bitching about, only that it _sounded_ like bitching and she didn't want to suddenly be the new topic of his personal conversation.

With nothing else better to do, she looked at him, choosing his long black tresses as the object of her examination this time. They didn't really look like hair as she would think of it, though by its position on his head, she didn't know what else to call it. What it actually _looked_ like was a mass of sea anemone tentacles. So far, though, she had no reason to believe they were prehensile in any way. What they _did_ have were metallic cylinders clamped on some of them.

Now that she thought about it, Alice remembered the two aliens in the shower, one of whom had a _mess_ of those things on his... tentacles. Four or five on each one, if she recalled correctly, and apparently different compositions as well as designs. Nothing apparently in danger of water damage, though. By comparison, her captor and the other alien had only a few.

Were the metal pieces some measure of authority? Maybe a military ranking system?

Just between this alien and the one with the impressive collection, she wondered if there was a difference in maturity there as well. The other one seemed so... calm and self-assured. While the similarly under-blinged member of the audience collapsed in an unmistakably uncontrolled laughing fit, this one simply turned away. Either he had no sense of humor, or he was... what, _tactful_?

Or could it be something as simple as a dimorphic ornamentation? Without a female handy for comparison, Alice could only speculate. Perhaps these creatures adorned their tresses with trinkets to attract mates. By that measure, the more decorated one must be beating the ladies off with a stick.

Suppressing an unprofessional giggle, she left his embarrassingly bare tresses in favor of... well, the rest of him. He was seated in a chair as any human might be, shoulders hunched forward as he meticulously soldered the shoulder guard. The red lighting of his room sort of washed out his coloration, but she remembered the dull greenish-grey streaks blending into a lighter tan on the front of his body. Toward the back along the spine, the skin was much darker, possibly a deeper forest green. Considering where she first saw him, it was reasonable to assume his coloration was some sort of natural camouflage.

For her own entertainment, since she had no way of asking, she assumed his home planet must have similar environments to the African jungle he'd been fooling around in. Then she quickly suppressed that line of thought, lest it lead to speculation of where he was taking her.

Alice had to acknowledge the real possibility that she was no longer on her planet, painful and terrifying as that thought was. How could a facility as big as this remain hidden, especially considering the power of Google Earth? While she could tell herself rather convincingly that the hum she was hearing was a life support system, _not_ an engine developed for space travel, she knew she was fooling herself.

Back to his body, a much safer line of thought, oddly enough. He was humanoid, startlingly so, even though there were distinct differences between his species' evolution and her own. For one thing, his people seemed to have favored natural weaponry in the form of claws. The sharp teeth not only inferred a largely carnivorous diet, but also represented yet another weapon at his disposal. It was clear the environment that supported his species favored aggression and dominance, if only revealed by his size in comparison to the others. For example, the blinged-out alien was much larger, not only in terms of height but bulk as well.

So... size _and_ bling might put him on the 'attractive mate' radar? Or both things indicated he was older and (presumably) wiser? Hard to say.

Regardless, from a muscle mass standpoint, he was thick in all the places she would expect of someone who used his legs to run and most likely climb. His upper arms were densely packed as well, so she assumed that, in spite of their capabilities in space, they used conventional, primitive weapons like that spear she'd seen, thus building up those biceps. Very likely put his claws and teeth to good use, as well.

What evolutionary choices might have ended differently on _his_ planet to justify _mandibles_ around his mouth completely escaped her.

Sighing, Alice wished she had her notebook so she could jot down these thoughts, but if she felt comfortable enough to get it, she'd have an energy bar to munch on too.

After what seemed an eternity, the alien stopped fussing over the piece of armor and rose. Alice tensed and pressed herself back against the wall, looking up at his masked face. She didn't know what was worse; that blank void hiding his terrifying face and any idea what he might be thinking, or his face exposed in all its emotionlessly rigid, toothy, crab-leggy, nightmarish glory.

Moc'tut grunted impatiently. The ooman still stunk of fear no matter how recently he'd bathed it. Gathering up his training _awu'asa_, he turned to his pet and chuffed at it. Arms full, he couldn't gesture with his hands, so he backed up his vocalization with a head jerk. His pet just stared at him, uncomprehending.

Growling, he barked, "Come here!" It startled, but didn't obey him. _C'jit_, he thought. Stepping closer, he offered up the armor he held and repeated his command. Thankfully, because his patience was already wearing thin, considering how likely it was that Qu'art would be in the _kehrite_ waiting to pummel him some more, the ooman seemed to grasp his meaning and leaped to its feet. He piled his _awu'asa_ onto its splindly forelegs, then went to a panel on the wall and punched a code into a security pad next to it. The panel whooshed open, revealing his weapons.

In spite of her nervousness and confusion over what the hell he wanted from her _now_, Alice took a step or two closer. There were several things in there that she would classify as 'primitive.' A few blunt objects, some knives, two throwing disks...

_Aliens play frisbee?_ she thought in confusion. But nothing that looked like her idea of an alien laser boomstick.

The alien lifted a long, thick object with a point at each end from its hooks and closed the panel. Then he headed for the door.

Confused, Alice just stood there, unsure what to do. He paused in the doorway and turned to her, then he sort of chittered. Narrowing her eyes, she took a hesitant step toward him. He nodded and left.

_Ah_, she realized, _he wants me to follow him. Great._

Swallowing, she left the room and trailed after the tall alien. He struck out in the opposite direction they'd gone in before, so it was probably not another shower he had in mind.

What he _did_ want wasn't particularly clear either.

A couple of turns later, he stopped at what looked like a blank wall exactly the same as any other blank wall up and down this corridor, and a panel slid aside. He paused for a moment, pitching his chin in the air a bit, then entered the large room beyond. Alice doggedly followed.

The _kehrite_ was, thankfully, empty. The pungent _n'dui'se_ of his rival wasn't present. Moc'tut felt his entire body relax; Qu'art was off doing something else, leaving Moc'tut alone to train undisturbed. Turning to his pet, he retrieved and put on each piece of his _awu'asa_. The simple routine calmed him further, allowing his mind to drift into the state of _zazin_, so crucial to success in the hunt.

Balancing the _ki'cti-pa_ in his right hand, he flicked his wrist, and the points shot out each end. It pleased him to see his pet startle and retreat, and he puffed his chest a bit with pride. Twirling the extended spear experimentally, he headed toward the center of the training hall.

Alice slowly sank to the floor, staring at him. The alien moved around the room at a measured pace, holding the spear in the center and spinning it from side to side, sometimes with both hands, other times with one. Regardless, he kept it in constant motion, unhurried and apparently as part of a warm-up routine. It was like watching a master of Tai Chi, and she felt herself relaxing. Leaning back against the wall, she stretched her legs and crossed them at the ankles.

Apparently moving on to other muscle groups, he began twirling the spear around behind his back, switching sides each time. A few minutes of this maneuver was all he indulged, going back to the prior move at a faster pace. Then he shifted once again, clearly engaging an imagined foe with swipes and thrusts, both at range and in close quarters.

Two things occurred to Alice as she watched him in awe. One, he was amazingly disciplined, every move controlled. She could well imagine he knew exactly how much force to bring to bear, and didn't overstep if it wasn't needed. His entire body flowed gracefully around the room, even running up the walls a few feet and launching himself off with deadly grace.

The other thing she realized was that he could have painted the bathroom walls with her guts at any point. Seeing his speed and brutal abilities once again, so much more powerful and elegant than he showed when fighting the other alien in the jungle, she was intimidated as well as extremely impressed.

He _could_ have hurt her. _Could_ have. But he didn't. Was it because she was a female? Because he considered her a dumb animal? Or because she represented no physical threat to him whatsoever?

Whatever the true reason, she was grateful for it. Maybe being considered a pet was insulting, but at least in human society, pets lived pretty damned pampered lives. Her cat's only 'job' in the little cottage she owned was to keep the occasional influx of mice on the run. While she didn't particularly appreciate the 'gifts' offered up on her bed, Alice would never dream of harming Skittles for expressing her... respect? Admiration? Affection? Whatever... The rest of the time, the mixed breed Humane Society rescue lounged around, fiddled with cat toys when she felt like it, stalked and pounced on Alice when the mood struck, and purred contentedly when stroked.

Smiling a little, Alice wondered what sort of behavior _she_ could get away with in this scenario? Vermin control was out of the question; something told her that whatever lurked in the dark corners of this place could damn well stay there. He hadn't given her toys to play with; that would actually be horrendously insulting, now that she thought about it. She didn't purr, but she could sing a bit. While she wasn't nearly in his league, she _had_ learned a little bit of self-defense based on jujitsu... maybe she could surprise him with _her_ moves at some point.

Shaking her head, she checked herself. This line of thinking smelled too much like defeat, like she was rolling over and letting this alien win. At the moment, though, she couldn't see any other way. Maybe after she'd observed the aliens, gotten to know their culture a bit better... perhaps she could convey to this guy that she wanted to go home. Failing that, maybe she could find an ally who would help her.

Her thoughts were broken by the door panel sliding open and a _huge_ alien entering the room. There was something even more threatening about this one, just in the way he held himself still, staring across the room at her captor. Her alien stopped moving as well, and the two stared each other down for several moments before the bigger one huffed and turned away.

By the tense look of her captor, Alice suspected that what seemed to her like a win in a dominance game was actually a humiliating loss. Then she realized the newcomer had stopped right next to her.

He wasn't wearing a mask, and his piercing eyes were locked on her. She noted that he had more metal cylinders clamped in his tentacles than her captor did. Mandibles clicking, he growled and chittered at her, then suddenly reached down and grabbed a fistful of her hair. Squealing in terror, she instinctively pried at his thick fingers as he hauled her to her feet.

"This is your _pet_?" Qu'art roared, turning the ooman this way and that. "You brought a _pyode amedha_ on board. I did not think the rumors were true."

Moc'tut closed the distance between them swiftly and struck the larger yautja's wrist. "Release it!" he snarled.

Chuckling, Qu'art let go, chuffing as the ooman fell gracelessly to the floor. "Take its head and be done. Unless it serves some other... purpose."

Bristling over the other hunter's tone, Moc'tut backed up a few paces and held his _ki'cti-pa_ before him in a defensive stance. "Say that again, _tarei hsan_."

Qu'art threw his head back, laughing at the foolish youth, though they were relatively close in age. "_Nan-de than-gaun_," he growled, extending his own _ki'cti-pa_ and leaping forward.

Two minutes into the battle, Alice wished she was anywhere else but here. All the grace and skill her captor showed earlier when alone and undistracted seemed to have leaked out of his brain as soon as the bigger one walked in. She partially covered her eyes, sometimes peeking between her fingers and flinching when the bigger one hit him with the sharp ends of his spear. This wasn't some benign practice with blunted weapons; they were actually drawing blood. Well, the big one was; her alien couldn't get inside the bigger one's zone to inflict more than bruises and the occasional nick. Meanwhile, the floor was splattered with glowing drops of her alien's blood.

The injuries didn't appear to phase him at first. While this was impressive in itself, Alice still gasped and sucked air between her teeth with every blow, imagining them hitting _her_, and how much it would hurt. Then he let his rage take full control; throwing the spear to the side, her alien roared and charged. The suddenness and, Alice had to say, _stupidity_ of the move caught the other one off guard. She almost cheered when her alien pushed the bigger one back a couple of paces.

It was a short-lived victory. Alice completely covered her eyes this time, afraid to look.

Moc'tut's rashness, as usual, cost him dearly as Qu'art sent him flying across the _kehrite_. Gloating over his triumph, the larger yautja strode unconcernedly over to the prone hunter. "Remember I am your better, pup, and do not challenge me again. You fail on the hunt, you fail in the _kehrite_, as you fail in all things." Nudging the defeated hunter in the ribs with a clawed foot, Qu'art chittered derisively. "Mating season will soon be upon us, but I do not think you will be wanted. Not when _I_ am seen. Crawl off to your ship and lick your wounds. Go hunt for trophies none will note. Strut about with your 'pet' if you think it will gain you notice. Those in the clan know your worth. As do I."

Turning away, he headed for the door, but stopped to pick up Moc'tut's discarded _ki'cti-pa_. Glancing over his shoulder, he chuffed mockingly. Holding the combi-stick over his up-raised knee where it had cracked during their battle, he brought it down hard against his thigh, breaking one of the spear-lengths off at the handle. Then he threw the pieces across the floor and left the _kehrite_.

Alice slowly lowered her hands and found her captor lying in a motionless heap across the room. She couldn't help it; she felt sorry for him. Maybe he took her from her home against her will, but when she looked past _that_, when she ignored _that_... Damn, he was about as useless in a fight as _she_ would've been. He obviously knew _how_ to fight, what positions to take, how to best use his weapon, but put an opponent in there, and he lost it. It was pretty damn sad, actually.

Cautiously, Alice stood up. He wasn't moving, but she could hear his churring, like an idling car. She forced herself to detach from the wall and get closer. Telling herself that all things being equal, he was a wounded creature likely in need of aid, she approached slowly. When she finally reached him, she slowly sank to her knees beside him.

Now she could see that his mask was cracked down the center, and that glowing blood was seeping out. Remembering how he'd taken it off before, she hesitantly reached forward, hands shaking so much she had to clench her fists several times to steady them.

"Easy," she breathed quietly, in case he was aware enough to hear her. She didn't want him freaking out. The mask came off easily enough, allowing her to see that the jagged edges of the damaged metal had left shallow cuts on his forehead, but nothing ghastly.

_No more ghastly than his normal face,_ she thought.

He wasn't moving or speaking, but his eyes were fixed on her, and she swallowed nervously. "Are you okay?" she asked stupidly.

"_Qu'art... pauk-de_," he muttered, mandibles weakly clicking.

Alice had no idea what that meant, but nodded anyway. "Yeah. Quart pock dee. You betcha."

He blinked at her, then his shoulders shook slightly with apparent mirth. "Yoo bi'tchah," he mimicked.

Taken aback, Alice frowned and tilted her head. "Can you understand me, or are you just a gigantic mocking bird?"

Grunting, he struggled to sit up. Every part of him hurt, and now there didn't appear to be a square inch of his body that wasn't split open. Perhaps if he'd known that all those other times he'd fought Qu'art, the bastard was holding back, he wouldn't have been so quick to confront him. And now his _ki'cti-pa_ was ruined. He would have to drag himself to Mat'ha and hope the elder would see about having another made for him.

He thought it was humiliating enough getting his ass kicked. Wincing, he tried not to think about what Mat'ha would say. At least he still had his hunting _dai-shui_, and once he was officially recognized as a blooded warrior, he would be allowed to make another.

Sitting quietly beside him, for some reason, was his pet. This behavior was unexpected, but he was too tired and beaten up to wonder about it right now. The seemingly endless parade of embarrassments was not over; he'd now have to visit Cheh'shi to make sure he had no life-threatening internal injuries. Sighing, he pushed himself to stand.

To his surprise, the ooman also rose, and even touched his arm, startling him. The flesh of its forehead was bunched up over the pointy bit sticking out of its face, and its eyes kept flicking all over his body. Sometimes it winced and bit its lip.

Strange.

Shrugging off its hand, he slowly crossed the _kehrite_ and picked up the pieces of his _ki'cti-pa_, then led the way out the door, his pet trotting after to keep up. Cheh'shi first, then Mat'ha, then maybe more _c'ntlip_ than was strictly recommended.

* * *

**Terms:**

awu'asa = armor  
n'dui'se = scent  
zazin = centered; at peace within oneself  
pyode amedha = 'soft meat'; another term for human  
tarei hsan = unworthy opponent  
Nan-de than-gaun = no mercy  
dai-shui = mask  
c'ntlip = alcoholic beverage


	5. Pt1 Ch5: Advice from a Caterpillar

**PART I: A CAT WITHOUT A GRIN**

**Chapter 5: Advice from a Caterpillar ... In Which Wisdom is Offered and Things are Seen**

As soon as Moc'tut and his pet entered the infirmary, Cheh'shi sighed. Clicking his mandibles in a clear sign of exasperation, he silently pointed at the nearest examination table. The young hunter growled under his breath and laid himself out for a scan.

Glancing at the ooman, Cheh'shi noted her rigid posture, wide-eyed and panicky darting looks about the room, and growing fear scent. Absently, he rumbled deep in his chest at her and bowed slightly before turning to his patient.

Alice blinked at the other alien with surprise. What the...? Did that creature just _purr_? It was brief and seemed almost left-handed, habitual rather than a fully conscious gesture, but it still shocked and confused her. Thankfully, this alien appeared only interested in poking and prodding her captor, and she was able to calm down a few notches. At least it didn't look like another round of 'Let's Beat the Crap Out of Whathisname' was in the offing. Nor was the still-anticipated anal probe of the captive human in evidence. The purring was actually... soothing, in a weird sort of way. Then she was arrested by the examination itself.

While there was a healthy amount of poking, the 'doctor' conducted most of his work with a particular mask on that was clearly different from the ones she'd seen on her captor. The open cuts and deeper slices into the alien's flesh were dealt with using what looked almost like a caulking gun, only smaller. No effort seemed to be made to actually stitch up the wounds, as if this was a culture highly respectful of battle scars. Again, further evidence of an aggressive and dominance-driven society.

"You have cracked ribs," Cheh'shi informed Moc'tut. "Many bruised organs, but none crushed or destroyed. Qu'art was merciful."

"Qu'art is a _pauk-de_," Moc'tut grumbled. "I will beat him. He cannot best me."

"He _has_ bested you," Cheh'shi snapped. "Do not look for death. Cetanu will find you without help."

"You know nothing, _medic_," the younger yautja snarled. "Qu'art has no... fear of death. Neither do I." He'd almost come right out and said the larger hunter lacked honor, a serious accusation. Not one he'd get away with, even spoken in relative confidence to Cheh'shi.

"I do not question your courage," the medic said carefully. "Only your... skills, _for you are young_," he added quickly as Moc'tut flared angrily, sitting up and assuming a provocative posture. The youngblood's crest tightened sharply, lifting several tendrils above their neighbors. Alice likened the display to a pissed off wolf, hackles raised and teeth bared. Even Moc'tut's mandibles spread as he let out an offended roar. "Hear me!" Cheh'shi cried desperately, backing a few paces away and holding a hand up, palm out. "Experience is what you lack, not ability. Go to him when you have trained more. Then you will be his better. Now... he has hunted more than you, seen more than you... There is much you must learn."

"We are _equals_!" Moc'tut roared, leaping off the table and advancing, clawed hands clenching into fists. "None go on the hunt before their _chiva_, and this was _chiva_ for both of us."

"Yes, it was," Cheh'shi agreed. "But he... you must know he has hunted before."

Moc'tut reluctantly paused. "He has hunted... with his sire," he growled in an undertone, looking away.

"He has," the medic replied with no small amount of relief. Moc'tut was not incompetent in battle; all agreed on that, at least. "A rare thing. I am told he faced _kainde amedha_ before now. Never slain one, but faced them," he pointed out. "Perhaps such things increase his... boastfulness."

Watching the exchange without having a clue what it was about, Alice focused on the differences between these two aliens. On the surface, it seemed the 'doctor' was older. She could see a larger number of those metal cylinders in his tresses, but more than that, he was calmer. Her captor seemed to fly off the handle easily; this one was clearly trying to placate him. Because the prior encounter that left her captor in a bleeding heap was still fresh in her mind, she was struck by the fact that _this_ creature, at least, had no interest in meeting her captor's aggressive approach with a like response. She also got the impression that he had grudging respect for the 'doctor'; perhaps he didn't act deferential, but he didn't press the attack when it was clear his opponent wasn't of the same mind on the matter.

Which might have been due to the more mature demeanor of the medic, or it could have been the plethora of sensitive and likely very expensive machinery and equipment in the infirmary. She had no doubt a fight in this room would put the ship's owner back a year's salary if it were all destroyed.

Calm seemed to be restored, though, for her alien chittered something and headed out the door again. Alice didn't particularly want to be left alone in a room with _any_ of the aliens, not even her captor for that matter, but since he was the devil she knew, she trotted after him to keep up.

The confrontation with Cheh'shi was by no means the worst thing he'd have to endure today, Moc'tut thought bitterly. The damned elder was so _reasonable_. Bringing _pauk-de_ logic into the situation as if it had any business there! 'More experience' indeed. _Pauk_ him!

Still, he would likely get worse from Mat'ha. Far worse. Where Cheh'shi was an elder he felt reasonably safe pushing around a bit, within reason, Mat'ha was not. Cheh'shi had disdained the life of a hunter in favor of the softer option of healer; Mat'ha had at least three queen _kainde amedha_ skulls in his trophy room. An honored warrior and an elder of great respect, Mat'ha also owned the hunter ship taking them back home. It was his good grace that sponsored Moc'tut, Duc'sa and Qu'art on their _chiva_, and he would be an ungrateful fool to throw that back in the elder's face.

He would have to be on his best behavior when he prostrated himself before the elder about replacing his _ki'cti-pa_.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Moc'tut pressed the call button outside Mat'ha's suite. Part of him hoped the elder was occupied somewhere else on the ship. Unfortunately, he could not be so lucky.

When the panel slid open and revealed the elder alien, Alice had to stifle a giggle. Where most of the time she'd been seeing partially to completely _un_clothed aliens, this one opened the door wearing a robe. _Holy crap, it's the Lady's Man_, she thought with an internal smirk. _What, no glass of Courvoisier?_

The larger, better decorated alien looked them both over, and what was, for lack of a better term, his eyebrows rose slightly. Alice stared. She had _no idea_ their faces could move. Her captor had spent the entire time since she'd first seen him looking rigidly hostile. Since he reacted so badly to direct eye contact, she hadn't felt inclined to look more closely. Now that her attention had been grabbed, she couldn't stop staring at this older one. Compared to her captor, he didn't look _nearly_ as pissed.

Perhaps that was another benefit of age, she mused: the ability to get through a day without throwing a temper tantrum.

Her captor's head was bowed, but whether in shame or submission she wasn't sure, as he presented the broken spear. _Now_ the older one's brow dipped in that familiar expression of anger she'd gotten used to seeing. He barked something sharply, like an order, and turned away. Her alien followed the elder alien into his room, and Alice automatically followed _him_.

With age came great privilege, Alice thought as she took in the details of the much larger room. The cell she shared with her alien was _dwarfed_ by this one. Yes, there was a bed of about the same size, but _this_ one had multiple fur pelts layered at least a foot deep. It looked a damn sight more comfortable than the floor, that was certain. There were shelves on the walls and small tables here and there. It looked like he _lived_ here, not just occupied space in a rented room.

Unlike their quarters, _this_ one didn't have a toilet in the corner. A doorway on one wall seemed to lead to another room where she presumed his private bath was. Why he would shower with the boys when he had his own, she had no idea. Maybe it was a male bonding thing in this society? Who knew?

On the opposite wall from the bathroom, there were brackets and shelves holding... skulls. A multitude of skulls. Some were so weird she could only assume they were skulls because everything else _looked_ like a skull, so _that_ must be one too. Her breath caught when she recognized human skulls in the collection, and she had a hard time swallowing for a few seconds.

_Why am I alive?_ she thought. _Why the hell am I not on the wall too?_

"Explain," Mat'ha growled, turning in the center of the room to face the youngblood. He let his gaze flick to the ooman, noting the direction she was looking and the fear scent she was generating at unnecessarily high levels. Another thing to school this foolish pup about.

Keeping his eyes down respectfully, Moc'tut began. "I broke it in the _kehrite_, Mat'ha," he said in a low voice. "It was damaged, but I did not set it aside to repair, and it broke. Would you request another for me?"

Mat'ha crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head. "You lie." His mandibles twitched with slight amusement at the pup's bristling, and amended, "Or you tell a partial truth. This happened in the _kehrite_?"

Biting back a retort, Moc'tut snarled, "Yes. _As I said_."

The elder growled a warning. "Do you challenge _me_, then?" The youngblood swiftly shook his head. "Good. If _Qu'art_ can do this to you, a round with _me_ would send you to Cetanu before your time. Now answer me. Was your pet present when this occurred?"

Startled, Moc'tut tore his eyes from the floor and stared at the elder. "What has _that_..." Flinching from Mat'ha's even _sharper_ warning growl, he nodded and dropped his eyes again.

"Tell me what happened in the _kehrite_," Mat'ha rumbled, "or I will ask your _pet_."

Moc'tut raised his eyes again to fix the elder with an incredulous stare. "Ask my _pet_? What does _it_ know?"

"_She_ has eyes," the elder snarled.

"I do not argue _that,_ Mat'ha," Moc'tut snapped, then stifled any further ill-advised comments. "Do you know its tongue?" he asked humbly.

The elder's tusks twitched with barely suppressed amusement. "I do. She has many... strong opinions of you." His gaze turned toward the ooman, now watching their exchange with confusion and far more fear than was warranted. "Now tell me the truth, or I will ask _her."_

The young hunter found himself torn between scoffing at the notion that an ooman possessed the intellect necessary for meaningful communication, and keeping his mouth shut because Mat'ha clearly believed they _did_. So far, all _he'd_ heard from his pet was gibberish and loud squalling. That was _language_?

For now, he opted for honor over good sense, and decided to tell the truth. If by some wild miracle the ooman _could_ speak in an understandable manner, and _had_ paid enough attention, he'd rather not be caught in a lie _that_ way. Outted by an ooman. Nothing could be more insulting than _that._

"I was sparring with Qu'art," Moc'tut grumbled, "and... missed. The _ki'cti-pa_ struck the floor and cracked. I... discarded it and... attacked bare-handed."

"Damage to one's weapons is common, even in training. There is no shame in this," Mat'ha replied. His brow furrowed. "But your tale is not ended, is it?"

"No, Mat'ha," Moc'tut muttered. "He... broke my training _dai-shui_..." He half-heartedly gestured at the cut down the center of his face. "It is ruined, but I have the one I hunt with, and I can make another for training after... the blooding ritual." He winced a little on the last words, as if he believed this little event would cost him at least that honor. "Qu'art... insulted me, then picked up my _ki'cti-pa_ and... broke it over his leg."

Mat'ha sighed and shook his head. "Foolish pup," he murmured. "Why did you challenge him?"

"How do you know I...?"

"Because this was not sparring, if Qu'art did not hold back as he always has against you," Mat'ha snarled impatiently. "This was _jehdin-jehdin_. Now tell me why you challenged him."

Quivering with remembered anger, Moc'tut clenched his fists and barked, "He grabbed my pet and frightened it. I do not want him touching it."

"I see," Mat'ha nodded. Looking intently at the youngblood, he said quietly, "You understand what this means, correct?"

Moc'tut winced and bowed his head.

"Perhaps your time on the clanship would be better spent in study," Mat'ha suggested. "There is much you must learn, not only of the warrior's path, but of certain... prey."

Looking up, Moc'tut trilled questioningly. "Prey?"

In answer, Mat'ha turned his attention to the ooman, who cringed beneath his stern gaze. A low rumbling purr vibrated in his chest, and the ooman looked at him in confusion, but less fear. Softening his expression, the elder inclined his head and laid his hand over his chest.

"Mat'ha," he said softly. Gesturing toward the young hunter, he told her, "Moc'tut." Then he held his hand out to her expectantly.

Alice's eyes flicked between them. Hardly daring to breathe, she repeated the words he said in a hushed whisper, since he seemed to be expecting it. He nodded to her and said them again, ending with his hand held palm up invitingly.

Their names. He was telling her their names. She shook herself and put her hand on her heart. "Alice."

"Ah'lees," the one called Mat'ha said, and she could swear he smiled. At least, his upper tusks seemed to rise and squinch his eyes a little.

Satisfied, Mat'ha glanced at Moc'tut's incredulous expression with a bit of annoyance. Granted, the pup had little schooling and no recognized sire to guide his steps, but he should _at least_ have enough respect for _pyode amedha_ not to assume they were simply dumb animals. Any hunter worth his _awu'asa_ knew _that_ much.

The elder went to a shelf he kept his most precious trophies upon, and his gaze flicked across the treasures. Almost absently, his thoughts momentarily far away, his claw tapped the wooden handle of one.

"I will tell you two things of great importance, Moc'tut," he said quietly. "The rest you must learn on your own, or through study."

"I hear you, Mat'ha," Moc'tut replied respectfully.

"The first," the elder said, "is that an ooman requires feeding more often than we do. You must see to your pet. She is weakening from hunger."

Deeply chagrined, Moc'tut nodded. "Yes, Mat'ha. And the other?"

"Oomans have ways different from ours," the elder said. "Do not dismiss them because of this. Observe and learn." His fingers lightly stroked the wooden-handled object. "An ooman male will tear the clothing from an ooman female for purposes of copulation." He looked over his shoulder, noting with satisfaction the shocked expression on the young pup's face. "_Forced_ copulation," he clarified pointedly.

"_C'jit_," Moc'tut breathed. "I... no... that was not..."

"_I_ know," Mat'ha interrupted grimly. "_She_ did not. She fought to protect herself, not to anger you." Then he turned back to his shelf full of memories. "Their lives are short, you see. Like fires that burn hot and bright, and are quenched too soon. They fight for every moment of life, no matter how hopeless it seems," he murmured almost to himself. More loudly, he said, "I will send the request for you. Now go."

Alice was too shocked to resist when her captor, now identified as Moc'tut, took her elbow somewhat gently and steered her out of the room. She barely acknowledged that whatever was discussed left him a bit out of sorts as well.

The older one, that Mat'ha, had a _hairbrush_. What the hell would a creature with no hair be doing with an obviously well-worn, wooden-handled, weathered by age... _hairbrush_?

Moc'tut's thoughts were miles away. All the handling and groping and pawing he'd had to do to his pet to get it just clean enough... To his horror, he recalled Qu'art's off-hand comment about the ooman 'serving some other purpose'...

Mortified, he stumbled in a fog all the way to his quarters, releasing... Ah'lees and securing the door. _C'ntlip_. Definitely need large quantities of _c'ntlip_.

Though his _ki'cti-pa_ was beyond repair, the retracting mechanism useless even on the end that _wasn't_ broken, Moc'tut replaced the combi-stick on its hooks in his weapons locker and sealed the panel. Another storage panel opened at his touch to reveal his private stash of _c'ntlip_, something he rarely felt such a strong need for than he did now.

Pouring himself a drink, he sat on his bed and leaned back, drinking and staring at nothing. He didn't even much care what his pet was up to at the moment, and ignored it... her. Whatever. If he allowed himself to really think about it, he knew he'd be thoroughly embarrassed by the assumption Ah'lees must have had when he... Grimacing, he refilled his cup and downed it quickly to chase those thoughts away.

Sitting on her pet bed hugging her knees, Alice watched him throwing back one cup after another. _Must be booze_, she thought. It was uncanny how human he acted sometimes, sitting there drinking and staring at the wall deep in thought. He had the look of someone who'd received a pretty profound shock. From what had happened over the last few hours, she guessed that the whole thing – the ass-kicking, whatever the medic said to him, and just recently some kind of dressing down by the bling-meister – must have been tremendously humiliating for him as well.

She rather hoped that large quantities of booze didn't make him vomit. She _really_ didn't want to see what _that_ looked like. What it _did_ seem to do was make him incredibly drowsy. After about a half hour of steady tippling, he slumped over on his side and made himself as comfortable as he could, then drifted off to sleep.

The thing about these aliens, Alice had realized before now, was that they didn't snore. Not like humans did, anyway. Nothing you'd recognize as a snore. She had to guess that he was asleep simply because he had stopped moving. Now seemed to be a good time to test that theory and make a try for an energy bar. She was _famished_. Hungry enough to eat almost anything at this point. Standing on shaky legs, she slowly edged toward the table, keeping a wary eye on the drunk alien.

He never moved, not even when her fumbling hands peeled back the wrapper. She practically stuffed the whole thing in her mouth and choked on it, but managed to wrestle the granola down.

At which point, she decided a drink would not only wash it down, but was long past due after all _she'd_ put up with over the last however many days. Desperation making her wreckless, Alice carefully lifted the large cup from the even larger alien hand, filled it from the odd-looking bluish bottle next to Moc'tut, and tried a sip.

It was strangely fruity and odd... not like alcohol as she knew it, yet it still had a heady effect that generated a pleasant buzz. She sipped some more. Definitely warming the insides and tingling the tongue. Longer drink. Mmmm... starting to feel a little giddy and relaxed. This is good stuff. More would be better, certainly. Several swallows later, and the room was tilting a little. Maybe sit down? Oh... the floor came up to meet her. How kind of it. Is that... heavens, how did Moc'tut turn into a giant caterpiller?

Moc'tut would later drift awake from a dreamless sleep and trip over his sprawled pet on his way to the toilet, sending himself flying into said toilet to add yet another 'battle' scar to his growing collection.

* * *

**Terms:**

Cetanu = god of death  
jehdin-jehdin = one-on-one combat


	6. Pt1 Ch5: Pig and Pepper

**PART I: A CAT WITHOUT A GRIN**

**Chapter 5: Pig and Pepper ... In Which Food Flies and the Cat Grins**

Drinking alien booze on an empty stomach made for an ass-kicker of a hangover when Alice finally dragged herself to consciousness. She wasn't the only one nursing pain; Moc'tut seemed to have acquired a dent in his forehead and an even worse temper than before. Nearly spitting harsh-sounding noises in her face, he unceremoniously hauled her to her feet by the elbow and dragged her bodily out the sliding door once more.

_Great_, she thought resignedly as she worried her splitting head with her free hand, _yet another grand tour of the ship. What new and exciting experience is on the agenda today?_

Moc'tut was in no mood for discussions or even _attempted_ discussions. He'd let his pet get roaring drunk and then he plowed head-first into the toilet. It was not an admirable moment for him. When he woke to find her still stupefied by _c'ntlip_, he finally remembered what Mat'ha told him: feed your pet. As luck would have it, he hungered as well, so it was an excellent opportunity to introduce food to the ooman. All aboard the ship would be present at the meal; he could show them he wasn't a complete idiot.

The blank wall they faced this time opened into a large room with what looked like a modernist, maybe even minimalist, sort of utilitarian dining table. All around it, set at uniform distances, were the same sort of standard-issue chairs as Moc'tut had in their quarters. Alice furrowed her brow, but didn't get more than a moment to process where she was before Moc'tut was shoving her into the room.

Most of the chairs were filled; she recognized all of the aliens she'd met so far: Mat'ha of course, taking the position at the head of the table, plus that big hulking guy who beat the tar out of Moc'tut in the training room. The one who was sort of physically in between Moc'tut and his rival in size who laughed like a hyena in the shower, and the one who was obviously some kind of doctor.

In all honesty, given how he'd been treating her so far, Alice assumed she'd get a dish of milk in the corner, not a chair at the table. She wasn't at all surprised when it looked like Moc'tut was heading in that direction. However, Mat'ha barked sternly at him and chittered. Her captor looked for all the world like a grumpy little boy called on the carpet for trying to shove his green beans under the table to the dog. Muttering – or rather clicking – under his breath, he shifted the direction in which he was pushing and Alice found herself sitting in a giant chair next to the monster hulk, feeling like a six-year-old at the grown-up's table. She couldn't even raise her eyes to look around.

Moc'tut shoved the chair across from her back and sat on it huffily. Alice suppressed a choking giggle. _So_ like a kid.

Qu'art chittered with amusement, seeing the dent in the center of Moc'tut's face, and puffed up haughtily. "I see my mark has been joined by another. Mishap with your pet?" The smaller yautja glared at him but said nothing. "I proudly claim the _trench_ down the center, but I am impressed by the blow that must have made this other... impression. Tell us of the battle. Were you victor or victim?"

"Peace, Qu'art," Mat'ha warned. "Eat." The large yautja shot a look at the elder but wisely dipped his chin in a deferential nod.

Sensing a weird tension in the room, Alice tried to make herself smaller. Especially since her captor was glaring daggers at the jerkface right next to her. She didn't want to be the collateral damage when _that _shit hit the fan, whatever it was.

To her surprise, a couple of aliens sort of emerged from the woodwork and ranged about with trays like they were waiters or something. Intrigued, Alice's eyes followed them. They were smaller than the others, and the way they moved among these great, hulking aliens had 'subservient inferior' written all over it. Beginning with Mat'ha, they set trays full of some kind of stuff in front of each alien at the table.

Alice tried not to be insulted by being the last one served.

Looking at the collection of... stuff on her plate, she frowned. It looked like roadkill on a pile of rotten lettuce. She wondered if the Dentrassis were involved in this mess, and if there wasn't some revenge being sought. Glancing up uncertainly, she saw the aliens diving in with relish, picking up hunks of... whale barf or whatever the hell it was... in their bare hands and shoveling it in. The mandibles were going to town, pulling stray bits in that missed their fangy little mouths in the initial delivery. Disturbing, yet fascinating.

Sighing, she decided that her grumbling stomach had reached _that_ _point_ where even garbage scows had a certain survivalist appeal, and delicately lifted a sort of manicotti-looking thing between two fingers, peering at it dubiously. _You've eaten roasted cow tongue and haggis; don't be a baby_. Taking a deep breath, she slowly brought the squishy white thing closer to her disgustedly contorted mouth with determined, albeit reluctant, intent.

A ripple along the thing caught her attention. It was _moving_.

"_Mother fucking christ on a bike!_" she screamed, launching the feebly squirming, _still alive thing_ away from her as hard as she could. It hit Moc'tut square in the face with a wet slap.

The dining room went quiet and still as every head turned in her direction, but she couldn't look at them. Her eyes were focused on Moc'tut in horror. He trembled as he slowly reached up and unhooked the grub or whatever the fuck it was from his upper tusk and squeezed it in his hand. All manner of goo oozed out both ends, dripping onto his plate.

Shaking in terror, her lower lip trembling, she pointed at the slug thing and whispered, "It moved." She hoped like hell Moc'tut would suddenly defy all prior examples of his behavior and blow it off gracefully.

Duc'sa had to shove his plate away and bury his face in his folded arms. Yet still, his howls of laughter could be heard in the otherwise silent room.

Fighting to suppress his own mirth, Qu'art said evenly, "If she were _my_ pet, I would make her pay for such an insult."

His body trembling with embarrassment and fury, Moc'tut slowly rose, his great clawed hands gripping the table to keep himself from flying across it at his pet._ She is a weak creature_, he reminded himself. _It would be dishonorable to rip her pauk-de head off!_

Afraid that his anger would see him strangling the ooman in his effort to correct her improper behavior if he skirted the table and made a grab for her, he found himself instead taking a fistful of food off his own plate. Hauling back his arm, he threw the food at Ah'lees as hard as he could.

Being a yautja who was pissed off beyond all reason, that was pretty damn hard.

The very large volley hit Alice so hard in the chest her chair fell over backwards, spilling her on the floor. Choking and gasping, she struggled to her feet and gave Moc'tut a shocked look. He was heaving great breaths, seemingly unable to speak. Her brow furrowed in a glare as she scraped the whale barf off her.

"You did _not_ just go there, you mother fucker," she growled, arming herself from her own plate and letting him have it.

Chairs scraped across the floor as the other aliens scurried out of the battle zone. Food was flying everywhere as the combatants grabbed more off the others' plates. Alice got several hits on the big alien, because he was _big_ and hard to miss, while he had a bit of trouble nailing her. Not for nothing was she the one most often chosen for dodgeball back in high school.

It was personal now. For the first time since her capture, she had a leg up on this son of a bitch, and she exploited it with extreme prejudice. The wall behind him wasn't nearly as covered in shit as he was, and she only had a few lucky tags on herself. Darting behind furniture, she came up grabbing food and launching a volley, then ducking back down. He was dumb enough to stay in the open, making himself an easier target.

"This is what you get!" she screamed in a reckless fury. "For taking me _away_ from my home, _off_ my planet, _this is what you get!_ How do you like _this_ shit, cowboy? Huh? Huh? How do _you_ like it?"

"Have you seen this sort of behavior before?" Che'shi asked cautiously. Mat'ha shook his head slowly.

"Should have skinned it back on its planet," Qu'art growled disdainfully. "I will take my meal elsewhere." Jerking his chin to Mat'ha, he left the dining room.

Duc'sa still wasn't able to stand, and lay in an undignified, laughing heap on the floor. Mat'ha knew the pup had long since passed beyond his ability to restrain himself and just let him lie.

Mat'ha had definitely not seen such behavior in an ooman female before. His recollection was more... dignified than this. Still, he could not help being amused. The food was still flying between them, Moc'tut in his mindless anger getting the worst of it as he often did...

And the ooman's speech was certainly outside his experience as well, though he knew well what was being said. Mat'ha began to chuckle as her colorful descriptions – _asshat_? – poured forth. A chittering laugh snuck out over _fuckhead_, and he had to get a grip on himself when she called Moc'tut a _butt monkey_. Folding his arms over his chest, he basked in the heat of her insults, so amusingly directed at one so deserving.

Evidently thinking the folks at the table had run out and needed more sustenance, one of the _eta_ cautiously came in with another tray. Alice grabbed it out of his hands and catapulted the contents at Moc'tut.

Che'shi ventured to poke a toe into Duc'sa's ribs. "You should not laugh at your hunt brother," he admonished, then the tray-load of food flew into Moc'tut's face with pinpoint accuracy, "even if... it _is_... funny." A halting, grunting laugh forced its way out of the medic.

Finally, Moc'tut held a hand up in surrender. Gasping, he glared at Ah'lees. She too was panting, the empty tray still in her hands. His pet had gotten no food into her; all of what was given was now dripping off of _him._ The wall behind her was painted with so much food she managed to dodge, he suspected the _eta_ would curse him back seven generations for the task they had ahead of them.

She was covered as well. He'd hit her enough times that her mane was filthy again. He couldn't even _see_ her coverings under all the food clinging to her. Glancing down, he saw he was in worse condition, with so much caked on his body it would likely take hours to scrape it all off.

It was positively the most humiliating and ridiculous thing that had ever happened to him... yet he found himself unable to keep from laughing. It started as a barking grunt, then devolved into snorts and wheezes. Before long, he was nearly in as wrecked a state as Duc'sa, needing to lean on the table for support.

Alice slowly lowered the tray and stared at Moc'tut. Was he... laughing? Darting a look over at the other three, she saw the medium-sized alien was contorted on the floor, shifting from fetal position to splayed as wave after wave of hilarity rocked his form. The other two were shaking a little with more dignified mirth. The big hulking bastard who smashed in Moc'tut's face was apparently 'above' this sort of thing and had left at some point.

Sagging, she let the tray fall from her hands. She actually felt a bit better, having let off some steam at that big asshole. What amazed her was that as Moc'tut succumbed to laughter, his entire face seemed to change. Being so pissed all the time made this laughing expression all the more noticeable and note-worthy. He actually _did_ have muscles in his face that could change his expression. Lucky him; another five minutes of all that scowling and his face would freeze that way.

Seeing him laugh somewhat gave her permission to do so as well, and she let herself chuckle a little. Maybe things hadn't changed at all, maybe she was still on the express train to who knew where and would still ride it in the pet compartment, but... he didn't kill her. That was a plus, right?

Moc'tut's tensions released, and his shoulders sagged. Catching the nearest _eta's_ eye, he said, "Bring more food. For both. Make sure _hers_ is dead." Then he sat down. Looking expectantly at his pet, he motioned for Ah'lees to sit across from him.

Cautiously, she slid back into her seat with as much dignity as she could muster. Swallowing uncertainly, she tore her eyes from his and looked at the new plate of thankfully immobile whale barf the waiter brought her. Checking him and seeing him nodding encouragingly, she carefully scooped up a little of it on two fingers the way Indiana Jones did in _Temple of Doom_ and stuck it in her mouth with an anticipatory grimace.

Forehead smoothing, she looked up at Moc'tut and smiled. "Not bad."


End file.
